


We should just kiss like real people do

by lanyon



Series: Bad Boy Boogie [10]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:58:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Aces lose, and Kent loses, but it's not a bad summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We should just kiss like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> +Title from Hozier. It may be a bit misleading.

Kent drops to his knees. It's over. They're in Madison Square Garden and they've lost the Stanley Cup final by four games to one. The last thirty seconds of Game Five were gruelling; a power play and an empty net. They had six skaters against four and they still couldn't do it.

He's only dimly aware of a hand on his shoulder and he wants to shrug it off. He doesn't want to be comforted. The hand clenches in his shirt and he's hauled to his feet, powerless to stop it. He turns towards Charbo who wraps his arms around him and Kent clutches at Charbo’s shirt with both hands. 

There's a gentle nudge as Jeff joins them, wrapping his arms around them both as best he can, and this will be the photograph tomorrow; it is easier to sell a defeated team in solidarity than a captain clinging to his friend.

Kent wins the Conn Smythe. He’s the first player from a losing team to win the trophy in over a decade and he doesn’t react immediately when his name is called out. Beastly gives him a gentle shove. 

“Go on, Parse,” he says. 

Kent skates to the centre of the rink and takes the trophy, shaking hands with Bettman, in a daze. He goes to the area where there are still some Aces fans, clustered by the glass and he holds up the trophy and points at them. 

When he skates back to the team, they’re applauding him and the Aces trudge back down to the visitors’ lockers as the Stanley Cup celebrations begin in earnest. He sets the Conn Smythe down at his locker and looks at it, his hands on his hips. His name’s already there, and maybe it will be again, when he can disregard it as incidental to leading his team to victory, the way he hasn’t tonight. 

Everyone is sombre and quiet, pulling themselves together before the reporters come in. Kent looks up when he realises someone’s come to stand beside him. 

“You deserve it,” says Charbo, quietly. “I wish we could have been as good as you. Sorry, Cap.”

Kent turns to face him and puts his hands on Charbo’s shoulders. “Don’t,” he says, equally quietly. “I know you all gave everything so just — just don’t.”

He wants to wrap his arms around Charbo and collapse into him again, the way he did on the ice. Gabriel Charbonneau is so much more comforting than a trophy and that thought alone should terrify Kent Parson, who’s won it all (except Olympic gold) and who never wants to stop winning. Kent has to pull himself together though, so he moves ones of his hands up to Gabriel’s neck, rubbing his thumb along his jaw. “I know you gave everything, kid. C’mon.”

He turns away, reaching up for an Aces snapback so he can look the part for their reporters. After Sochi, he doesn’t even have to rehearse how to apologise. 

“Your family here?” he asks.

“Yeah, Mom and Aurelie are headed back to their hotel but I’ll meet them for brunch tomorrow. That place out in Williamsburg, maybe, where the hipsters who don’t care about hockey and where we can blow our food plans.” 

Kent nods. “Maybe I’ll get Mom and Dad to bring the girls. We can make a morning of it or whatever.” He pauses, maybe too long to be polite. “Is Ray here?”

Charbo makes a noncommittal sound, having paused, maybe too long. “Nah, he’s taken up a posting with Doctors Without Borders in Sierra Leone.”

With a low whistle, Kent nods. “You must miss him.” 

“Yeah,” says Charbo, after a moment. “I do.”

♠

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces • 14m  
Congratulations to our captain on winning the Conn Smythe. NEXT YEAR BOYS.

♠

The last gathering before everyone goes their separate ways is at Beastly’s house which surprises precisely no one. Jeff’s apartment is still barely habitable, though since Charlene moved in, it’s looking a lot better. 

The party is a subdued affair. Bash comes down from Vancouver but he doesn’t bring his family with him. Agata is heavily pregnant so Agnes has flown up to stay with her. Beastly’s house is quiet without the kids running around underfoot, eager to get their honorary uncles to play with them.

“I think Agata’s probably happy to have me out of the house,” says Bash, shrugging.

“How many is it now?” asks Kent, even though he’s fooling no one; he knows and loves Bash’s four kids. “Nearly enough for a decent power play unit?”

Bash laughs and claps Kent on the shoulder and shakes Gabriel’s hand before he goes over to help Beastly with the grill. 

“They must miss each other,” says Gabriel, softly. 

“Trades are the worst part of the game,” says Kent, with uncharacteristic vehemence. 

Gabriel looks at him with surprise. It’s not like Kent is in danger of being traded but Gabriel has never considered what it might be like to be the only constant; to be the sun around which planets orbit. He knocks his shoulder against Kent’s and Kent jokingly staggers to the side.

“Food’s up!” shouts Beastly, from the other side of the pool and it’s like the magic words, or something. Everyone converges on the grill and Gabriel kind of gets it; this is family and it’s got to suck when family gets sent away, even if it happened to most of them when they were kids. Gabriel knows he was lucky, to stay at home for as long as he did and somehow, he’s ended up in Vegas and he’s still lucky. 

Kent slides his arm around Gabriel, which he’s been prone to do more often, lately. Gabriel’s not sure why, exactly, but he likes it, and he puts his arm around Kent, too, to make it easier to walk in step as they join the line for food. 

“Any plans for the summer?” asks Kent.

Gabriel hums. “Home, I guess. Some endorsement stuff and I’m gonna take Mom and Aurelie away at the end of July but they don’t know that yet. You?”

“Yeah, back to New York and then the annual Parson holiday to Disney World.” Kent grins. “Gotta make the most of it before the girls are too old.”

“Because you definitely don’t enjoy hanging with Mickey and Goofy, huh?” 

Kent laughs and his shoulders actually shake with it. “Get enough of that with Jeff and Murph during the season, thanks, buddy.” His laugh subsides into a little sigh. “I do miss everyone, though, which is fucking nuts, right? I mean, these guys drive me ‘round the bend.”

“But you love them,” says Gabriel. 

“Yeah,” says Kent. “But don’t tell ‘em.” 

“Don’t tell us what?” asks Beastly, brandishing a spatula behind the grill. 

“Parse loves everyone,” says Gabriel and laughs as Kent clutches his chest.

“Traitor,” he says but he’s smiling. He picks up a plate. “C’mon, Beasts. Gimme what you got.”

♠

Another Disappointing Season For The Aces  
It speaks volumes about the Las Vegas Aces that ending a season as Stanley Cup runners-up is a disappointment. Joshua Giddings is in no danger of losing his job as GM and Kent Parson may not have won either the Art Ross or the Hart this year but there’s little doubt he’ll be in the running again soon. 

He didn’t seem too concerned not to have won. “Sid’s a great guy. He’s the best player in the league this season for a reason and I’ll be sure to bring it next year.” 

♠

Ray emails, sometimes, over the summer. Gabriel’s kind of proud of them, that they can be friends. It seems so adult. He likes Ray’s Facebook posts and photographs and he’s proud to know someone who’s changing the world. 

Kent texts, a lot. His texts always make Gabriel smile, even though he knows better now. He knows that Kent doesn’t want him now, any more than he did before Gabriel was with Ray, and that’s okay. They’re friends. 

“You’re happy,” says Aurelie, resting her feet on his lap as they watch _The Good Wife_. “I like it.”

Gabriel smiles. “I guess. It was a shitty season for the Aces but, you know. Olympic gold.”

Aurelie’s mouth drops open. “You won an Olympic gold medal? You should have said something.” She digs her heel into his thigh just to make him squirm. “I’m proud of you, baby brother.” 

“Eh, it’s okay, I guess,” he says. 

“Did you hear from Caleb?” 

Gabriel shakes his head. “Nah, I think he’s got bigger concerns. Max is doing well. He’s eligible for the draft next year.”

Aurelie huffs. “His priorities are fucked.”

“His loss, right?” 

“What about Grandma?”

“Nah. I mean. I get them all tickets whenever the Aces play in Winnipeg but I haven’t heard anything from them in a while.” Gabriel smiles like it doesn’t hurt in the least. 

“And you send Max top of the range hockey equipment and you make sure Zach and Logan get what they need for school. They’re not your responsibility, Gabriel.” 

Aurelie hasn’t even met their half-brothers but, as she’s said before, she can’t offer them anything. She’s just a post-grad student at McGill; she’s not a famous hockey player, with famous friends. 

Gabriel’s phone buzzes. It’s a text from Kent. 

_Shit. Bergy’s been traded to the Habs._

“Who’s that?” asks Aurelie. 

“Parse,” says Gabriel, waving his phone a bit awkwardly. “Bergy’s been traded to Montreal. Fuck.”

“Hey, you’re _from_ here.” Aurelie finally pauses whatever episode they’re on and Gabriel figures they’ll have to go back to the start because he has no idea what Alicia is talking about right now. “Wait. Is Bergy that hot Swedish guy?”

Gabriel splutters. “He’s, like, four years younger than you.”

“You were eight years younger than Ray.” 

“That is somehow totally different. Put the damn show back on.”

♠

 _You should come to New York._ Kent doesn’t really regret sending the text message. At least, he doesn’t when he gets an answer within about ten minutes.

_Why? Not that I’m not grateful for the invitation but training camp is in like a week._

_The girls are threatening mutiny._

_Well. I can’t let your sisters down._

“Mom!” shouts Kent. “Can I have a friend over to play?”

His mother comes through to the living room, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Only if his mother says it’s okay. Who’s coming to stay?”

“Charbo,” says Kent. “Don’t tell the girls. I want to surprise them.”

He’s not sure what to make of the expression on his mother’s face but she nods. “Sure thing, honey. Can I tell your father? You know he always thinks of Gabriel as the son he never had.” 

“I hate you all,” says Kent as he pulls himself off the couch and goes to wrap his arms around his mother. 

“That’s okay, honey. We have Gabriel now. He can have your room.”

Kent meets Charbo at JFK. 

“Good to see your style doesn’t really change,” says Charbo. He’s got a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and he never bothers with hats, unless it’s a contractual obligation, like a post-game interview, or it’s really, really cold. He’s looking good. Kent reckons he’s allowed to observe that. Gabriel’s hair isn’t as long as it was at the end of the post-season run but he’s clean-shaven and his shoulders look even bigger. Could they be bigger?

They give each other a firm bro-hug and Kent is pretty pleased that he manages to keep his feet.

“Okay, so the girls don’t know you’re coming,” he says, as they walk towards the AirTrain to head to the parking lot. 

“Please tell me at least some of your family know I’ll be staying,” says Gabriel, looking mildly embarrassed in that Canadian way of his. It’s charming, really. 

“Oh, totally. Dad’s stoked and Mom called your mom to make sure you have no allergies or whatever.” Kent doubles up with laughter when he sees Gabriel’s expression. “Fuck’s sake, Charbo. I’m kidding. Though I’m sure Mom probably _will_ call your mom to congratulate her on raising such a well-mannered son. Fuck, you’d swear they’d never seen you on the ice.”

“I am perfectly well-behaved on the ice,” says Charbo, indignantly. “Aside from the occasional penalty.” 

Kent snorts. He hands Charbo a MetroCard, because he’s nothing if not prepared, and AirTrain arrives pretty promptly. “So, Addison called. She must, like, hack our texts or something because she knows you’re here.”

“Yeah,” says Charbo. “She wanted to set up a meeting in Montreal about some Bauer thing but I said I was coming down to New York.”

“Okay,” says Kent. “That makes a lot more sense than hacking. Anyway, two birds, one stone, I guess. They wanna film some ads with both of us.” 

Charbo nods and turns to look out the window as the train winds its way away from the airport terminals.

Kent nudges his arm. “Glad you came to visit, buddy.” 

Charbo grins. “Well, you know. Couldn’t let your sisters down.”

♠

Spotted at Coney Island: If there’s anything more wholesome than this, we don’t want to know. Gabriel Charbonneau, the NHL’s resident cutie, was seen at Coney Island with Kent Parson, the NHL’s resident hottie, and Parson’s little sisters. Charbonneau is in town to film segments with Bauer but it looks like his captain dragged him out of the studio for some family time.

♠

Gabriel likes staying with the Parsons. It reminds him of his first Christmas in Vegas. It’s probably for the best that he and Kent aren’t more than friends because Gabriel would hate to lose this. He’d hate to lose the easy familiarity he has with Kent’s dad, who’s been the best sort of company on the Aces’ fathers’ trip for the past few seasons. He’d hate to be in any way responsibility for Katie and Kristen being unhappy. 

He and Kent work out in the basement gym, following their exercise plans to the letter, for the few days that Gabriel is staying with the Parsons. 

This is the best of all worlds, he thinks, as he lounges on the couch next to Kent, while the twins watch a movie. He’s due to fly back to Montreal tomorrow, before they head to Minnesota for training camp. He’s not even aware that he’s sleepy until he wakes up, a few hours later, and the living room is dark. There’s a blanket over him and a shoulder-shaped pillow under his cheek. 

“Hey,” says Kent, hoarsely. “Sleeping beauty, huh?” 

Gabriel’s not really awake yet, which must be why he nuzzles closer to Kent’s shoulder. “Thought it was _Brave_ ,” he murmurs.

Kent tugs on one of his curls. “Wrong hair colour. Wrong accent. C’mon, Charbo. Bed or we’ll never get you to the airport on time tomorrow.” 

♠

Kent is trying to feel bad for enjoying it. Charbo dozing on him is nothing new; long flights usually result in teammates sleeping on other teammates. It seems different, though, and Kent tries to be stern. Charbo has a boyfriend, even if he’s in Africa, curing babies of stuff. 

Once he’s sure Charbo can navigate the stairs without faceplanting into them, Kent goes into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket and thinks about texting Jack. 

_I think I’m in love._


End file.
